"sensuous" poems
Woodsy smell
Gentle touch
Husky voice
Sensuous words
Teasing smile
Steady, mysterious eyes
~
Appealing to my five senses
Seducing me, tenderly,
your sweet and spicy nothings.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
A gentle breeze
Forever remembered
A luscious glade
Cold under your feet
A rich blue sky
Seemingly unreal
Beautifully arousing aromas
Tasting without touch
Pleasingly soft sand
To bathe yourself in
A sensuous bed of leaves
To wrap yourself in
A pleasurably warm ocean
Stimulating your senses
Lustful love
Forever wanting
Incapacitating desire
Depriving your concentration
You lose yourself
In natures tempting ways
Seducing you to stay
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
Flesh is heretic.
My body is a witch.
I am burning it.
Yes I am torching
ber curves and paps and wiles.
They scorch in my self denials.
How she meshed my head
in the half-truths
of her fevers
till I renounced
milk and honey
and the taste of lunch.
I vomited
her hungers.
Now the ***** is burning.
I am starved and curveless.
I am skin and bone.
She has learned her lesson.
Thin as a rib
I turn in sleep.
My dreams probe
a claustrophobia
a sensuous enclosure.
How warm it was and wide
once by a warm drum,
once by the song of his breath
and in his sleeping side.
Only a little more,
only a few more days
sinless, foodless,
I will slip
back into him again
as if I had never been away.
Caged so
I will grow
angular and holy
past pain,
keeping his heart
such company
as will make me forget
in a small space
the fall
into forked dark,
into python needs
heaving to hips and *******
and lips and heat
and sweat and fat and greed.
17.2k
She makes him sit and unbuttons his shirt
Makes him lie back and wets his hair, then
Her hands massage shampoo into his scalp
She is irresistible, every moment etched on
His brain, her sensuous touch, an incredibly
Close feeling, as she washes his hair, this is
More beautiful than breath, more loving than
*** more electric than near, more perfect
Than curling up, more intimate than naked.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 7:41 PM UTC
even
the beads of your sweat
warp
from the intense gravity
of those dense but sensuous orbs,
making a gentle detour
like a river,
before flowing into the whorl
of your beautifully chiseled navel
© 2022
Mar 27, 2022
Mar 27, 2022 at 10:50 AM UTC
Sometimes the poem
doesn't want to come;
it hides from the poet
like a playful cat
who has run
under the house
& lurks among slugs,
roots, spiders' eyes,
ledge so long out of the sun
that it is dank
with the breath of the Troll King.
Sometimes the poem
darts away
like a coy lover
who is afraid of being possessed,
of feeling too much,
of losing his essential
loneliness-which he calls
freedom.
Sometimes the poem
can't requite
the poet's passion.
The poem is a dance
between poet & poem,
but sometimes the poem
just won't dance
and lurks on the sidelines
tapping its feet-
iambs, trochees-
out of step with the music
of your mariachi band.
If the poem won't come,
I say: sneak up on it.
Pretend you don't care.
Sit in your chair
reading Shakespeare, Neruda,
immortal Emily
and let yourself flow
into their music.
Go to the kitchen
and start peeling onions
for homemade sugo.
Before you know it,
the poem will be crying
as your ripe tomatoes
bubble away
with inspiration.
When the whole house is filled
with the tender tomato aroma,
start kneading the pasta.
As you rock
over the damp sensuous dough,
making it bend to your will,
as you make love to this manna
of flour and water,
the poem will get hungry
and come
just like a cat
coming home
when you least
expect her.
8.7k
*Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall
I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”
Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."*
- Matthew the Apostle
I
Seventy-seven bottles of gin
lie in the guts of sensuous men;
seventy-seven I forgive you's dissolve
in a fanatical mind's resolve.
II
What offence occurred under Saint Constantine's priggish eye?
Was it specious as a Samian's thigh?
Or Sumerians receiving alien diplomats?
Maybe somewhere far under Moscow Putin's massing cloning vats...
III
Whatever discursive and belligerent milieu
church authority finds most tried and true
seems to be the most important decider
in the future of things like the Large Hadron Collider.
Perhaps, unfoundedly, they find it funny that Higgs
(though it seems much like calling the Liberal Party "Whigs")
is a name shared by a man and a theoretical particle
(though it be libelous in any journalist's article),
and thus label similar advancements as "blasphemous".
I guess that this is what it is: believing just because.
IV
Who can know blasphemy from piousness?
Maybe all Luther did was obfuscate a prior mess.
V
Seventy-seven palm-branch-adorned, donkey-riding kings:
an automatic-ring-making-machine beleaguering proselyte rings.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 1:40 AM UTC
by
rgpage
naked this night on soft satin sheets
his arm ‘round her shoulders, his lover’s head rests
her hair fills his nostrils with a scented bouquet
as fingers explore love’s affectionate quest.
tenderly lips touch in a loving lead
legs interlocking add to the play.
arms then wrap tightly pulling each other in
their hearts beating faster to join in the fray.
her ******* he kisses a sensuous gift,
she feels his love grow with each loving turn.
the curve of her back feels his fondling stroke
to capture this feeling forever they yearn.
his senses now heightened, his love at the ready
to soon to the feast, the more he will miss.
he must gain control and reign himself steady
for her love, her beauty, and her freely offered bliss.
their heart guided souls in lustful play
to their senses’ delivered a bountiful tray.
their love and youth play this night away,
‘til the dawn’s early light brings in a new day.
their lips now swollen, bruised, and red
hearts full of love, love’s watershed.
the fast night’s hours have swept past their bed
‘til night ties are severed with the sun in their stead.
as that night flew by so have the years,
his only love has since passed away.
he turns out the light perched next to the chair,
and off to bed slowly ending his day.
their children all gone one by one they’ve all grown,
occasionally stopping by w/ little time to spare.
w/ families and jobs and homes of their own
making the time to show that they care.
even though she’s gone he’s still not alone
he talks to her daily when he is at rest.
even though she’s gone good memories he keeps
God holds the others, and he kept the best…
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 3:12 AM UTC
*Inebriated blue cloud,
I know you well enough
libertine ways you have
make you a lover of
deep thunder and meek rainbow
and also a chit of a lark
that loses itself in a song
be it is in grief or mirth.
Strange is the ways of my heart,
how much I long to fall in love with you
and proclaim this to the world scheming
to disrupt the pleasures one seeks
without any reason at all
"Look! love has no limits, no reason even
the lovely cloud, softness personified
caresses my foliage with sensuous abandon
kisses me with her wispy lips of moisture"
I know you understand, though unmindful of
my unbridled passion
making breaches in the limits,
I have no illusion about our improbable union.
True, how can we live
happily ever after?
I envy your gift of wings
though you have none visible,
you borrow it from the wayward wind,
too willing to carry your sweet load around.
I stood on the hill top,
wistfully thinking
that you will come and
take me within your soft folds
though I am a tree with deep running roots
that has become a restraining thing.
Freedom without any limit
gets you inebriated every minute,
your love for love, makes you desirable
you live in the present, suspend thoughts on time to come
as it is hypothetical, you say.
You are in a hurry to roam
wherever lovers lead you one after the other
do you have an urge to dissolve and pour-
as water, without any remorse?
Do you know my penitence for your love
on this hilltop is a true sacrifice?
My love for you doesn't bring anything
except my wilting hour after hour.
Let me be on your blue breast for moments
when my boiling love will seek
your shining center that melts, melts
we'd freeze as one, how long my darling?
Time would simply stand still
to a distance, i'd be transported,
where tree or cloud means nothing
we are an incessant rain lasting for ever.*
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
Seasons pass, tempered by insalubrious fervor; treasonous design remiss of fate
An echo of prior songs resonate somber atrophy; mourn the passing of constant defeat, stained by triumphant dissonance and disdain
Fear strides along the broken path, left alone and solemn and crass: Through sour feats of vindication, tones of plight become dismissed
Surfeit, the sound of temptation rides upon the crest of dawn, blinding darkness like calming waves caressing infinite stretches of sand: soft and warm; kind and welcoming, embracing in its gentle touch
Sentience hides behind a creeping fog, whispering secrets of life eternal, bearing gifts wrought through sensuous candor
Two threads lost, now found; slowly bonding, uniting purpose, rhythm, rhyme, and reason; born from the same cloth, garnering habit, singing in harmony what echoes from within
Beautiful, intelligent, staunch with profundity; stark, handsome, wholesome, and good
The call of a true home may finally beckon..
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 2:08 AM UTC
Mary plants stems of roses
Happy is her sensuous senses.
Rosy roses reddish ,yellow
Dribbling dews on petals glow.
Sandy was her piece of land ,still
Mixing humus made she fertile.
Grow up mango, cashew trees now
Hellish heat around falls low.
All the birdies, human beings with
Rolling breeze’s blessing grew forth.
Nurture Nature for our future
Save our culture agriculture.
Greenery is her granary giving
Honey, money, feeling pleasing.
Waves on beaches softly recede
Crawling ripples crippling proceed.
Do you know? lives here sustain
Only through eternal restrain.
Gain for all lies where interactions
Divine hold our honest actions
=============================
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 10:33 PM UTC
converse kicks
lead up to lengthy legs
soft as silk
flowing through my finger tips
the wrinkled sheets gather round
trapping our heat
in this sweaty mound
of limbs
tangled too close to be separate
joined as one
not at the hip
but quite close
awkward laughter
leads to young love
and sensuous sighs
escape past locked lips
and fly through the open window
coming to rest on the rooftop
where we first kissed
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 1:10 PM UTC
Lust
One of those words that turns you
Grabs likes and causes comments
Lustful
Lingering upon lust
Requires courage for we can be trapped
Inside her endless taunting and tasting
Saltiness of you while waves crashing
Cause us to linger...lost
In the luscious luxury of you
Lust...
Shhhhhh...
We dare not speak your other names
***
Passion
Pleasure
Self satisfaction
Sultry sensuous
Luxurious lust...
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
Camera, lights, action...
Wake up, get up and don't forget to stay up.
Sway n walk but remember not to drop,
this is what we are going to call fashion.
Bring your hips left to right, stand up tall
and try not to fright. Bright lights up in it,
cause every gentleman loves to stare as the
senorita walks up the stairs in her high stilettos.
Smell of fresh fabric and the grip of leather tights,
take it and wear it because tonight you're the Queen
of the ball baby, coming out through the dark light.
We want fashion, poise and something to call Sensuous.
Do the cat walk
Strike a pose and tip to your toes,
cause tonight is fashion.
Competitive looks and reading books, you know you're in
it for the game to win it.
Jul 20, 2021
Jul 20, 2021 at 11:53 PM UTC
*veins of my fingers in riots of blossomed colours
like threads made of lilac, lavender, blues and leafs.
for the blues are essences of the Elysian skies,
while lilacs, lavenders and leafs were stolen from an old man's farm
every dawn the sunlit blue wept for the docile stars' hide
I knock my knuckles red and wild, like the raspberries from the monsieur's farm
my chin against the beige, I gaze to where the magpies talk too loudly on the garden moist
swollen and offended by the loud chirps of boisterous dins, the grouchy neighbour cry.
I fill my baskets with wild things and papers,
I have cheese and juices, fruits and sweet carrots.
I have peach trees on my nails for jam
I have cherries in my toes for pie
I have snows in my lapin's soul for some ice creams
I have poppies in my worn pants for a good sight
And there's even vineyards of all Verona in my mind
the ribbons on the hat loom into the gardens' tunnel;
I have herb gardens, I have secret gardens
And I have my old books and pens in there.
when my laces are riven, the embroidered flowers are not.
the canvas shoes is painted in petrichors and soil
my dresses go tattered, sewn with patches
into the vines, thorns and russet throats I lilt and leap
against smells of rustic wood pencils and redolent flowers
There, under a green willow is where to sit and devour wisdom
and to drink some saccharine wine with mon lapin and maybe some picnic pies.
The abominable tremors will be gone,
My morn soul diving into fairy pools of sensuous europhias.*
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
A sensuous sound eagerly heard
by my raw soul,
a sound like an angel whispering
and kindly teasing
The scent of the salty breeze
caressing and stirring my senses
My heart ceases
at the sight of the swelling ocean,
like a forgotten friend
Twinkling illuminations twirling
on the swaying
saturated skin
Impatient to be at one
with the rhythmic sways
to mother natures
heavenly work of art
Each time the images are transformed
I believe that this is my first time
and I have been unseeing
to this utopia
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 2:56 PM UTC
Sometimes...
History gets written
on lazy weekend afternoons
with mounting passions
dripping sweat
and throbbing pulses.
The first sight of you
and confusion set in
Was it the sight of raindrops
glistening on your naked back
or the sunrays deflecting
from your bare skin...
I didn't want to find out
I cared not
for all of a sudden
I found my palms sweating
aching to feel your
all consuming wet embrace
Was I blushing furiously ?
Could you read my thoughts ?
Was the ferocity of my thoughts so obvious?
Suddenly I no longer cared...
I wanted you to know
I wanted my brazenness to
spill over your naked soul
I wanted my desires
to embrace your
sensuous breaths.
Such chemistry as this
could only be mutual...
My steps no longer hesitant
I rushed to you
my eager fingers
caressing your bare back
I could feel my pleasure
as I mounted you
Then with a sinking heart
I suddenly realized...
this was an affair not meant to be
I would never be able to
taste ecstasy's unparalleled heights
This was it...
I could feel my frustration
as it hit me all
of a sudden those
...frenzied heights
could never be mine...
I would have to
hire a chauffeur at the earliest...
and watch with dismayed heart
...as a new affair unfolds
before my very eyes !!!
( Oh !God !When would I ever learn to drive ???)
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 11:36 PM UTC
Our bare, brief escape begins at the dance.
Steaming, smoking animals moving chance
that this ***** dancehall can yield loving.
Drug crazed pickers rev up their machined
Six string-ed orchestral Gibson guitars;
Yow! All the hipsters are making the scene
just now arrived in their late models cars.
Adults aping adolescents boldy down
drinks, belch bad beer and sweetly perspire
while you seething, hot and so sensuous
put my hand to your breast showing your fire.
Baby let's dance! Let's have our fun!!
Our brief escape has just begun.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
*Over the centuries
a transforming logo
promoting and shaping
our dance with coffee..
a seafaring birth
fifteenth century siren
exposed and sensuous
twin-tailed mermaid..
her seductive history
reached to Seattle
with nautical theme..
one lasting effect
many centuries told
with modified modesty
her crown remains..
this enduring connection
upper and lower
crown and creation
transcends the coffee..
the logo reminds us:
senses through time
stimulate and attract
crowned light above...*
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
HALF! HALF! THREE-QUARTERS! LENGHTEN! FULL!
The coxswain roars at the start of the race
Telling us to pry and to pull
And not to slow from race pace
Speeding through the 750 meter mark
About to pass the other boat
Going underneath the second arc
Passing the cruise with a single quote
The coxswain saying "within you you have the power to win"
We have passed the other team
But we keep on going with strokes as sensuous as a violin
To us this is a dream
We have finally taken the lead!
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
Your curls are Gulf Coast weather,
rarely cloudless and sunny, each
frustrating loop a messy
ice-cream scoop cascade.
They look like a love affair,
as sex-centered as your star sign,
too-friendly, sunday-sensuous,
meandering into ***** knots.
Every sweet-floral-fruity
custard you toss them in
is as well deserved as the
satin on your lashes and the
salve that slicks your
orbicular body.
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 4:28 PM UTC
The slits of glass give way to light,
Which cuts through the air and sun leeched curtains.
It falls weightless on warming skin,
Breathing life into stillness.
A gentle caress, a sultry glance;
Statuesque, they cast shadows on the wall.
Shadows that illuminate and contour,
Express and entrance.
Longing rapture in eyes, incandescent and iridescent;
Loveless yet sensuous silken skin that tells of life well lived.
Your broken heart rests on shoulders, colored and vivid;
A world is painted in timeless elegance.
What horrors has she seen? Said the looker so enthused.
What grandness has passed her eye? Says another just as true.
Oh the colors so earthen tell of pleasures and sorrows, yet whisper of frailty.
They speak in tongues that can never be trusted, only pondered.
The intricate oil work from a badger’s fair coat,
Show delicate and smooth,
All the features of her roistering frame;
Passions of the heart now told by passions of the brush.
The life is still, but forever infinite.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC